


Incoming Transmission

by 9_of_Clubs



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Trailer, But he's getting Tony Back, Drabble, Emotions, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Avengers: Infinity War Part 1 (Movie), Sort Of, Steve Rogers Needs a Hug, Steve Rogers has lost a lot, Trailer Coda, but he isn't, steve thinks Tony is dead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-13
Updated: 2019-02-13
Packaged: 2019-10-27 17:06:18
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 288
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17770817
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/9_of_Clubs/pseuds/9_of_Clubs
Summary: A little trailer coda based offthis fan editspeculating that when Steve asks, "Is this an old message?" he's really responding to hearing Tony's Goodbye recording from the first trailer.--He should be listening to this, should be paying attention as the cadence washes over him, but there are too many fragile strands of ache suddenly twisting through him, too many to follow all at once.





	Incoming Transmission

“Is this an old message?” 

The words come breathless from his mouth before his mind has even fully processed.  There is still noise sputtering from the screen, a moment ago silent, and then all at once animated, flashing life into stillness.

_ Incoming Transmission. _

And now, and now, and now. 

He should be listening to this, should be paying attention as the cadence washes over him, but there are too many fragile strands of ache suddenly twisting through him, too many to follow all at once; the familiarity of a voice not heard, studiously avoided, for so long, for too long, for stupidly long, and gone, he’d thought,  _ gone _ , blending into terrible longing, that freezes icy and burns ravaging, blood rushing back to a limb, and all of it, all of it fades sharply, the whole world dropping away, distills down into a dull buzzing in his ears, the too loud beating of his heart, and flickering embers, wisps of fire begging to be fed, of dangerous,  _ dangerous _ hope stoking slowly back to life from where it was buried in the ashes.

A flickering of something like life. 

They’re gone. 

He’s told himself.

He’s been telling himself.

Every day. 

Every morning.

They’re gone - and they’re not -

They aren’t.

_ Incoming Transmission.  _

Tony’s voice pours words into the room, crackling, and tired, and lost, and from god knows where, surrendering the way Steve had, before this breath. This changing of the wind. This answer to an endless prayer.

“Part of the journey is the end.” 

Somewhere outside of his awareness, his fists are clenching and the vertebrae of his spine are lifting back into place. 

Somewhere, a clawed up shield waits on an untouched bed.  

Not this time.

_ Not this time.  _  
  



End file.
